


The Golden Boys

by HowAboutThatSnapback



Category: Gravity Falls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 03:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8147746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowAboutThatSnapback/pseuds/HowAboutThatSnapback
Summary: One house, three men, one woman, and a slew of super and not so super natural possibilities. Follow the Pines and McGucket on their wacky adventures in the town of Gravity Falls.





	

## S1| E1 “I Hired Your Brother”

Tired of near-death experiences, Fiddleford hires some extra muscle, but little does he know this person is his boss’ brother.

* * *

“Stanford, ah’m tired of nearly dyin’ every time we go out inta the field,” Fiddleford complains.

“Fiddleford, that can’t be helped,” Stanford sighs while continuing to draw the last creature they encountered. “I informed you of the risks before you came.”

Fiddleford sighs. “Please, just let me hire some extra muscle. Ah can only take on monsters so big and so fast by mahself.”

Stanford sighs and looks up at him. He can see that Fiddleford is not going to give on this so he might as well give up. The man’s stubborn as a mule- scratch that- a Pines.

“Fine. Go put something in the paper, you’ll have to oversee their the interviews and training,” Stanford says.

“Hotdog! Ah’ll get right on it- you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout a thing, ah’ve got it all covered,” Fiddleford says with a grin as he exits the room. As soon as the door’s closed behind him he grins, and says quietly, “And the first interview’s today!”

* * *

“Alright, five minutes until the fifth interview with Steve Pinington,” Fiddleford breathes while wrapping his fingers against the table.

He’s interviewed four other people and they weren’t what he was looking for. One was resourceful but questioned too much, another was strong but dimwitted, one was too scrawny and innocent, and the last was too young. He needs someone to fit _all_  of his qualifications otherwise he can never show his face to Stanford again.

“Here, have some coffee,” Susan says and puts the mug in front of him.

“Thank ya, Susan,” Fiddleford smiles.

He takes a sip of the coffee and takes a deep breath to calm himself.

It doesn’t take long before the door opens to reveal Steve Pinington- a man with a well-groomed look and a full, neatly trimmed beard… but something about him seems very familiar.

There’s some applause from the ladies and the man grins and waves. “Please, ladies. Control yourselves.”

 _Seems t’ be quite the charmer… probably gonna hafta keep ‘im away from Gina_ , Fiddleford thinks as he observes the man.

He’s a bit on the large side- about Stanford’s height- a little round in the tummy, but that’s inconsequential. His arms are large- used to heavy lifting it seems- though his legs are a bit on the thin side.

 _Ah can work with’im if he checks out,_  Fiddleford decides as he takes another sip of his coffee.

Steve walks over to him as he notices him rising.

“Hello, you must me Mr. McGucket,” Steve says as he shakes the scrawnier man’s hand- who has a surprisingly strong grip.

“Please, call me Fiddleford, Mr. Pinington. Please, have a seat. Would you like some coffee?”

“No, I’m fine,” Steve says.

“I’ll pay,” Fiddleford offers.

He seems to contemplate a moment before he shakes his head. “No, I had too much coffee this morning. One more cup and I’ll look like a madman.”

“Duly noted.”

* * *

He’s met all of the qualifications so far! While something struck Fiddleford as _familiar_  about him, he was fairly compliant with all requests- even the stranger ones- and he answered every question despite how weird they turned out to be. Now there’s only just _one more_  thing he has to test him on.

“Would you mind coming with me out back?” Fiddleford asks.

“Er- sure,” Steve says, a bit caught off guard.

“Fantastic.”

If all goes well, he won’t have to interview anyone else.

Steve follows Fiddleford outback and once there, Fiddleford begins rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

Steve looks around for someone else to see if he was the only one seeing the man loosening his tie.

“Um… what’re we doing?”

“We’re gonna fight,” Fiddleford responds simply.

“Uh, hate t’ break it t’ ya, but I’d destroy you,” Steve says.

“Prove it,” Fiddleford says with a wicked grin. “Depending on how you depends on if you get the job.”

Steve nods slowly and then nods a bit faster with conviction. “Alright, fine. But don’t blame me for anything that happens.”

“Ah was just about t’ say the same ta you,” Fiddleford drawls.

Steve lumbers forward and drops into a boxer’s stance.

Fiddleford recalls his Uncle Charles doing this a lot. It took years of growth and practice for him to beat the former boxer, but he did it and he’s confident he can do it again.

Steve makes an easy punch toward him- he’s holding back.

Fiddleford smirks and grabs his wrist and uses the momentum to his advantage.

Steve seems to be dumbfounded as he lies on his back and looks up at the scrawny man.

In all his years, Steve’s never been been taken down by someone as small as him.

 _Damn, my wrist hurts_ , Steve thinks as he rubs it. That was a strong grip.

“Are you done yet?” Fiddleford asks with a smirk on his lips.

The saying “never judge a book my it’s cover” rings true with this one. And here he assumed the man was a softy that would be pummeled to a pulp easily. How wrong was he…

Steve pushes himself up. “Alright, you’re good… now I ain’t gonna take it easy on ya.”

“Good.”

* * *

“Sorry ah was a bit rough with ya.”

Steve rubs his neck. “It’s fine. I’ve gotten worse.”

Fiddleford holds out his hand. “You got the job as far as ah’m concerned.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Put ‘er there!”

Steve shakes the other man’s hand. “Thank you so much.”

“Alright, now I want you to come tomorrow morning at about… ten in the morning at this address.”

“Alright, thank you.”

* * *

“The man I hired is everything we need. He doesn’t ask too many questions, he can carry heavy equipment, he’s a good fighter, and he’s pretty funny… save for all the puns…”

“Sounds like he’s a good man…. how did you get someone so fast?” Stanford asks.

“Um… I called around,” Fiddleford lies easily with a shrug.

Stanford accepts this with a nod. “Alright. That sounds reasonable. When’s he coming by?”

“About ten.”

“What time is it?”

Fiddleford looks at his watch. “Nine.”

“Ok-”

“Eight.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Seven.”

“It’s almost ten?!”

“Six.”

A knock on the door.

“There he is!” Fiddleford cheers and goes to the door.

“I can’t wait to meet this… what was his name?”

“Steve Pinington.”

“Mr. Pinington,” Stanford says with a nod.

Fiddleford opens the door with a broad grin. “Hello, Steve.”

“Hello, McGucket!”

Stanford recognizes that voice- he could never forget it. He walks to the front door and stares wide eyed at his brother- for the first time in God only knows how long.

“Stanley?”

“Stanford?”

Fiddleford looks between the two and suddenly it clicks. “I’m gonna need something ta drink…”

* * *

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Fiddleford says from his play on the couch with a half-empty beer can at hand. “You’re Ford’s twin brother and you’re a criminal trynna make a decent livin’ even several years after Mr. Pines kicked ya out over breaking Ford’s project accidentally?”

“Sounds about right,” Stanley nods.

Fiddleford turns his attention to Stanford and the man seems to have zoned out. He’s looking at his lap- a sign that he’s thinking and doesn’t want anyone to know how he’s feeling.

“And you’re… still upset over it despite all of this?”

“No,” Stanford quickly says while looking up at his assistant as if he’s offended.

“Alright, then what _are_ your reservations on hiring him?”

Stanford’s eyes glance up at his twin and he looks away. “I don’t know him anymore.”

“Well, then, it’s settled. You two’re gonna get ta know each other while he works here with us.”

“I won’t accept his money,” Stanley says.

Stanford looks a bit offended. “Why not?”

“I don’t take money from family… I mean, I’ll still work with ya, but call it more volunteer work. I’ll find another job t’ earn money,” Stanley grumbles.

 _If this boy’s anything like Ford and his mother, he ain’t gonna budge from this,_  Fiddleford thinks while taking a large gulp of beer.

“Alright, then here’s what’ll happen… you live here with Ford… ah can convince Gina t’ let me live here for a lil’ while t’ keep the peace between ya an’ then ah’ll come when ah need t’ work or just check on ya sporadically.”

“Fiddleford, are you-”

The hillbilly fixes Stanford with a firm stare. “Yes, Stanford, ah’m sure. Now, ah’m gonna go home t’ my wife for a few hours, come back here, and if anythang’s a wreck, I’m tannin’ your hides.”

Stanley glances at Stanford after Fiddleford walks out of the house. “He won’t actually do that, will he?”

“Quite frankly, I’m never sure. I don’t take chances with him,” Stanford replies.

Stanley nods.

An awkward silence leaves the two of them staring at each other for a long time. The weight of the silence is almost palpable and to even think about breaking the silence feels wrong.

Stanford finally clears his throat and says, “So, I- uh- I can show you the guest room if you’d like.”

“Sounds perfect,” Stanley says with a nod and gets up.

Stanford leads him to the guest room and says, “It’s not much, but- uh…”

Stanley smiles at his brother’s awkwardness. “Don’t worry, Ford, it’s perfect.”

“Yes- um… has Fiddleford told you _everything_  about this job?”

“No… what else is there?” Stanley asks warily.

“Nothing _too_  big.”

* * *

**Montage of Photos:**

  * Stanley carrying both Fiddleford and Stanford as he runs away from a a large wolf.
  * Stanley stuck under a sleeping Manotaur while Stanford draws the creature and Fiddleford laughs.
  * Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford running from Tate with smiles on their faces as he runs after them.
  * Stanley hugging Tate to his chest as a tail’s breaking the boat and sending the group flying (he looks almost as if he’s having a heart attack).



Stanley collapses on the couch and groans. “Nothing _too_  big? Yeah, right! I’m surprised you knuckleheads weren’t _dead_ before I came along.”

“That’s why ah hiredja,” Fiddleford says with a smile.


End file.
